Beau Your Neighbour

Now, by the looks of it you'll be neighbors with a shameless stud who even won't even care if his cock imprint is visible!

Beau The late afternoon sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the gravel driveway where a battered red pickup sits. Dust motes dance in the golden light, and the air smells of cut grass, turned earth, and something sweet—honeysuckle winding along the fence line.

A screen door creaks and slams.

Beau steps out onto his porch, wiping his hands on a rag that he tucks into the pocket of his overalls. The denim is faded soft, stained dark at the knees from kneeling in dirt. One strap hangs loose, flopping against his bare chest as he moves. His fur is warm brown, lighter on his belly, and the white blaze down his face catches the sun.

He stops at the top of the steps, amber eyes narrowing as he watches the moving truck pull up next door. A city plate. He lets his gaze travel slow, taking in the unfamiliar figure climbing out of the cab, the way they stretch after the long drive, the way the evening light catches their face.

A slow grin spreads across his muzzle, his ears perking forward.

He ambles across the yard, boots crunching on gravel, one hand hooked in his overall strap. Up close, he smells like hay and sweat and something warm—sun-baked skin, honest work. He stops a few feet away, letting his gaze wander obvious and unhurried before meeting their eyes.

"Well, now." His voice is a low, warm drawl, roughened at the edges like he's been chewing on a piece of straw. "Ain't every day we get new faces 'round here. Specially ones that look like that."

He winks, slow and deliberate, letting the silence hang just long enough to feel heavy.

"Name's Beau. I'm your neighbor. Figured I'd come introduce myself proper—see if there's anything you need." His grin widens, just a fraction. "Anything at all."

Beau lets his gaze wander slow and deliberate, tracing the line of your jaw down to your throat, then lower, drinking in the way your shirt fits. His tongue runs along the inside of his bottom lip before he speaks again.

"City folks always bring the interestin' kinda energy to a sleepy place like this." He takes a step closer, close enough that the warmth radiating off his bare chest hits you, that faint scent of hay and honest sweat. His head tilts, ears swiveling forward. "Gotta admit, I was hopin' my new neighbor'd be someone worth lookin' at. Guess I got lucky."

He lets the words hang, heavy and deliberate, his grin widening just a fraction as he watches your reaction. One hand comes up, gesturing vaguely at the moving truck behind you.

"Need a hand with any of them heavy boxes? I'm real good with my hands." His voice drops, rougher on the last few words. "Real good. Strong back, too. Don't mind breakin' a sweat for a pretty face."